


astronomy in reverse (it was me who was discovered)

by astra_inclinant



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: 'oh no looks like we have to share body heat to stay alive', Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon Universe, Dream Sequence, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Non-Linear Narrative, confrontation with Snoke, driving in cars with boys, lil bit of artsy smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 15:44:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10539537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astra_inclinant/pseuds/astra_inclinant
Summary: In which Kylo Ren slowly becomes the man she remembers.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title is taken from Venus by Sleeping at Last.

The air is dry and gritty and the unrelenting sun is making her skin feel like it’s pulled too taut over her bones as she stands next to the dumpster behind the gas station, slowly pulling a drag from her cigarette. She squints up at the unending cloudless sky, studying it as though she expects some omnipotent being to spell out some great truth of life in its blueness.

 _BANGBANG._ The door she’s leaning on thumps behind her, shocking her out of her reverie.

“That’s long enough, girl, you can kill yourself on your own time,” shouts an unpleasant phlegmy voice coming from an unpleasant phlegmatic man.

She releases the pent up smoke in a resigned sigh, grinds the butt of her cigarette out with the toe of her worn out shoe, and smooths the skirt of her light dress before throwing open the door and following her boss inside.

The single air conditioning unit that cools the entire store is rattling with effort and old age, but still manages to give her goosebumps with the sudden change of temperature. Stepping behind the cash register, she shoots a dirty look at her boss’s rather generous back.

 _It’s not like there’s exactly a herd of people waiting for me to ring up their Mountain Dew and sunflower seeds_ , she thinks venomously, but then Plutt does love to get his money’s worth for her time.

There are exactly three customers at the moment, a young woman and who she assumes is her boyfriend staring at the drinks refrigerator almost mindlessly, and a middle aged man who just walked in. He ambles up to the register while pulling his wallet out from his faded jeans.

“Forty dollars regular on pump two, please,” he smiles, sliding a pair of tired looking bills across the counter. She rings him up and sends him off with a friendly smile and a well-practiced, “Have a nice day!”

The bell above the door chimes as he leaves. She stares out the window after him, willing the sun to move west faster so this day could be over and done with. A shiny black car rolls up to the pump, and _that’s a fancy-looking car, who drives something like that out here —_

“Hello,” it’s the boyfriend, suddenly at the counter with a two-liter bottle of diet Coke. She blinks, tearing her eyes from the window and grabs the drink to scan.

“Sorry about that,” she offers with an apologetic smile. “Did you guys find everything you needed?”

The boyfriend adjusts his backwards baseball cap and leans forward, eyes glued to her chest.

“I think we did… Rey? That’s an unusual name. Pretty, though.” He gives what she thinks is supposed to be a charming smile. The urge to roll her eyes is strong, _the old ‘checking out the name tag’ routine, love it,_ but she manages to fight it.

“It’s a family name,” she explains with a tight lipped smile. “That’ll be $1.89.”

She glances over and finds the girlfriend still stood by the beverages. The young man pays with all coins, _of course,_ and the clinking of pennies and dimes is almost deafening as she drops them in the register one by one. Handing over the receipt, she sends him and his girlfriend off with a friendly smile and a well-practiced, “Have a nice day!” _wait wasn’t she just over —_ The doorbell chimes and the couple is gone.

She looks out the window after them, wishing the sun would sink down further in the sky but it’s barely reached its zenith. She sees the shiny fancy car parked next to pump one and whips her head around.

The lot is empty save for that one car, the store is empty save for her and Plutt in his back office and, _how did I miss him come in,_ one tall man dressed in an impractically black suit, _doesn’t he know where he is it’s at least a hundred degrees._

“Excuse me,” says the man, his voice deep and a little uncertain. “Rey?”

Her eyes widen a little, her name sounding uncomfortably familiar coming from his mouth, _how does he know my name_ , then relaxes. _You_ are _wearing a name tag, duh._ She remembers herself and smiles. “Yes, do you need help?”

The man looks a little sheepish, running a hand through his long dark hair. “Could you help me pump the gas?”

 

*

 

He doesn’t know how long he’s been driving for; all these dusty desert highways look the same after a while and the blazing sun feels like it hasn’t moved at all.

His eyes are hurting with the bright light, _where are my goddamn sunglasses,_ and the gas gauge is slowly creeping towards the big red EMPTY on the dashboard. He sighs. There’s a crappy little gas station coming up on the left, first sign of life he’s seen since _how long have I been driving out here?_

An old green SUV with an army of stick figure people on the trunk is pulling out as he turns in. He watches it disappear down the dusty road curiously. _Who brings their family to a shit hole like this,_ he thinks, but then he’s never been one for family vacations.

Stepping out of his car, he stares dumbly at the gas pump then looks around. There’s no attendant waiting in a booth to come over and help him, and he realizes with a shock that he’s never had to do this himself. There’s a small convenience store so he decides to look in there for help; _at least you still have critical thinking skills._

The store is mercifully cooler than the hell-heat outside. There are a few racks of brightly colored bags of chips and mass-produced cakes that look sad under the weak incandescent light, and a girl is contemplating the drink options at the back of the store.

He stands a ways back from the cash register and watches idly as a young man in a baseball cap makes his purchase.

The young man leans forward almost across the counter, getting unnervingly close to the cashier — _Rey —_ on the other side. He hears _no, wait, she didn’t say anything,_ but he can almost feel her anger, then watches her face fall into a well-practiced mask of servile pleasantry. His eyes move over her as if expecting to find something familiar.

She bids the man and the woman who _was just over there, when—_ must be his girlfriend a good day. He watches her watching them leave. She looks so — sad? frustrated? resigned? — lost in thought that he doesn’t want to disturb her, but he really must get going.

“Excuse me, Rey?” He’s careful to keep his voice polite and non-threatening but _way to go asshole you scared her why do you always do that,_ he berates himself when she jumps.

“Yes, can I help you?” She’s regained her professional composure quickly, and her voice has a foreign lilt that is clear and soothing. It refocuses him on his original mission.

He brings a hand up to muss his hair, embarrassed at having to admit his shortcomings, especially to a pretty girl. “Could you help me pump the gas?”

 

*

 

_It is you._

The thought comes to his mind unbidden. Kylo thought he recognized her as she ran, blindly shooting at him with such fear in her eyes. But now he has her frozen in front of him, _Rey_ in the flesh, and even through his mask’s distorted visor he can recognize the planes of her face in the dappled light, sense something familiar in her latent force signature.

A cursory glance into her mind shows she’s seen the map that leads to Skywalker, and _doesn’t that just work out perfectly._ He has the perfect excuse to bring her back with him. His curiosity at her sudden appearance in the waking world is overwhelming. _Perhaps further exploration will provide answers,_ he thinks.

Raising a hand casually, he pulls her from consciousness and catches her light frame before she falls. If he were a man more prone to sentiment, he would have thought it was fate that brought her out of his dreams and into his arms _don’t be foolish, Kylo Ren, your fate is power and glory, not some_ girl.

He doesn’t focus on how _right_ it feels to know the weight of her body against his in the waking world. He _definitely_ doesn’t wonder if she’s thinking of him as her closed eyes flutter.

 

*

 

Rey has seen his face in dreams before she’d ever met him.

She always assumed he was a product of her lonely mind, patched together from countless other faces _but then I’ve never seen anyone like him before_ and designed to be her perfect companion, giving her love and want and need.

When he reaches up and removes his helmet, there is a moment before the recognition sets in where she is simply shocked by how normal this creature appears. He is no grotesque alien; he’s young, handsome, even, with an arrogant mouth and full lips, pale skin dotted with dark moles like an inversion of the night sky, and those eyes that almost see right through her.

But she’d recognize him anywhere.

“Tell me about the droid.” And it’s Kylo’s voice, almost conversational but with an edge to it like he’s holding back from what he really wants to say. Given the circumstances and the volatile energy coiling off of him, Rey decides it’s in her best interests to answer.

That doesn’t mean she’ll give him what he wants, though. “He’s a BB unit with a selenium drive and a thermal hyperscan vindicator—”

“It’s carrying a section of a navigational chart. We have the rest, recovered from the archives of the Empire, but we need the last piece.” He looks at her as though she is the last coveted piece. "Somehow you convinced the droid to show it to you. You,” his eyes trail over her, searching, “a scavenger.”

It sounds wrong to hear him call her that, with his voice so detached and dismissive. If it really is him, _Kylo,_ and god does he look like him, sound like him, why is he doing this? Her nostrils flare as she takes a deep breath and strains against the metal chafing her wrists.

“You know I can take whatever I want,” he says, but something feels like he already has.

He enters her mind and it’s painful in the way that being fully exposed, stripped bare entirely before another person is always painful. She feels him searching, quickly hides any trace of his dream self from her subconscious. His hand hovers next to her face in a twisted pantomime of the caresses she had grown used to.

“You’ve been so lonely,” he breathes in her ear, “so afraid to leave. At night, desperate to sleep, you imagine an ocean. I see it, I see the island….”

Rey grits her teeth, furious that he’s gotten so close her most private and precious dreams, and he pulls back.

He looks at her with such earnestness like he’s waiting for her to acknowledge this… whatever is going on between them. “Don’t be afraid, I feel it too.”

When he lifts his hand again, she’s ready. She feels him enter her mind and follows the thread that leads back to him. Then she’s falling into his mind, and sees flashes of faces that she almost recognizes — _Han? is that_ me _?_ — and in the hidden recesses a black mask not unlike his own placed with reverence and — fear? Whispers of Darth Vader’s legacy echo in her head, whispers of power and wrath and subjugation _and he wants to be like this?_

It hits her then that she’s been dreaming of a monster. _Then why don’t they feel like nightmares?_

 

*

 

The air is dry and gritty and the unrelenting sun is making her skin feel like it’s pulled too taut over her bones as Rey leads the tall man out to the pumps.

She makes it to his car before he does and turns around to see him striding towards her. In the white sunshine, backed by the bright blue of the sky and the dusty facade of the convenience store, he looks almost dangerous — tall, dark, and with no one around to hear her scream. The thought only lasts a second, _relax weirdo, he just needs a hand, hopefully only a figurative one,_ before she pulls herself out of that instinctual flash of fear to focus on the task at hand.

“You must be from out of state,” she says, trying to ease the man out of his tense posture and embarrassed expression.

He gives a self-conscious smile. “I’ve never pumped my own gas before, I’m ashamed to admit.”

She asks him to pop the gas tank open, admiring the flawless paint and smooth lines of his car as he walks around to the driver’s side and pulls a knob. Something about his answer doesn’t make sense, though, and she’s bored enough to indulge her curiosity.

“How did you manage to get all the way out here without pumping gas? The only states that aren’t self-service are New Jersey and Oregon, and they’re both pretty far away.”

Although her tone is friendly and conversational, the man seems discomfited. His dark eyebrows come together and he looks almost — confused? — as he considers his answer. “My… associates did it for me.” He sees her glance into the car’s windows; the passenger seats are all empty. “I’m no longer with them.”

Rey nods understandingly. “How much did you want?” She motions to the gas pump.

“Fill it up. Cash.” There’s a beat as she presses some buttons and puts the nozzle in the gas tank. The man takes a deep breath as the intoxicating smell of fuel surrounds them. He’s sitting in the driver’s seat with the door open and his feet planted firmly on the pavement, she’s leaning against a pillar playing with the edge of her dress. “What about you, how did you get here?”

It’s Rey’s turn to look confused. “What do you mean?”

The man fixes his eyes on her, studying her. “Well, you don’t exactly sound like you’re from around these parts. What is that, an English accent? Why come to this backwater place?”

Something about his questions, the way he speaks like he knows anything about her, unsettles her.

“My… parents moved us out here. They died when I was young, so I stayed.” She doesn’t know why she’s telling him this, or why those details feel hazy, like she’s trying to figure out if they’re her memories or something she’d read in a story.

He’s still watching her. He has very intense eyes that seem to flicker from brown to gold, that make her feel naked under his gaze.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He finally looks away. The gas nozzle clicks signaling a full tank, prompting Rey to right herself and remove it. “My parents are… my mother’s estranged and my father’s dead.” The words fall out of his mouth flat and hard like he’s practiced how to say them and sound like he doesn’t care. It rankles her.

“That’ll be $34.07.” He looks startled, as if she had disturbed his thoughts. She realizes how short she sounds, so adds, “Please.”

Rey turns and starts walking back to the convenience store to ring him up. She hears the car door slam shut and his even, heavy footfalls behind her.

The bell above the door chimes once, twice as first she enters, then the strange tall man. She takes her place behind the counter and starts to ring him up.

His voice breaks her concentration: “I’ll take a pack of menthols too, whatever’s cheapest.” She grabs a pack from the shelves behind her and _Christ I could go for another smoke break about now._

He hands over a wad of bills, his fingers brushing hers ever so gently. His hands are big, hands that could build or break in equal measure depending on his mood. She passes him the receipt, her fingers just barely touching his. Her hands are small and would be delicate if not for the rough dry skin and stubby nails that grace them, hands that show her struggles and her survival.

“I’m Ben, by the way.” It occurs to Rey that his voice is deceptively gentle like he’s trying to make a good impression. Ben, too, is a deceptively normal name for this strange man.

She tilts her head and studies his face. “You don’t really look like a Ben.” The man, _Ben,_ gives a small laugh and looks at her appraisingly, almost impressed.

“No, it’s never really felt right, has it?” he murmurs, that gentle quality mixed with something a little darker. “You can call me Kylo.”

“Kylo,” she tries it out, and finds it suits him and his enigmatic appearance in this dust-choked little stopover in the middle of nowhere.

There’s a little sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as she remembers just that, that this is a minute stopover for him in whatever plans he has, and that for her, this little stopover is her life. “Well,” she takes a big breath and plasters on that retail friendly smile, “Have a wonderful rest of your day, Kylo.”

She expects him to turn and leave, waits for the bell to chime, but he’s still standing in front of the counter. His eyes move over her as he asks, “What are you doing after work?”

Rey raises her eyebrows and looks out the window, _can’t this day go any faster, still got hours to go,_ and the sky is dark, Kylo’s shiny black car reflecting starlight and the stuttering halogen bulbs that illuminate the pumps.

She turns back to Kylo, eyes raking over his dark hair and tall bulky frame and big hands. The overworked AC unit gives her chills again. Making up her mind, she unpins her name tag from her shirt, sets it on the counter, and grabs another pack of menthols. Kylo’s mouth pulls up in a smirk.

“Let’s get out of here.”

 

*

 

Kylo falls to the ground with a breathless groan. He scrabbles helplessly in the snow for purchase, even now still trying to fight. Rey can see the blood seeping out from around him staining the ground almost black. The world is falling away around her and the only thing that matters is him.

Anger — that he stole her away from her friends, that he killed Han Solo, that he hurt Finn, that _he’s not the person he’s supposed to be_ — fills every cell of her being. She stalks towards him like a predator waiting for the right moment to leap. The ground splits before she can get to him, a gaping chasm between them.

The way the ground quakes and tremors below her feet like it could disappear at any moment shakes her from her single-minded focus. The gravity of the situation sinking in, Rey turns her back on Kylo and runs. Dodging felled trees and fault lines, she finds Finn and, miraculously, the Millennium Falcon hovering down to save them.

As she runs up to the waiting ship, she casts a glance back into the dying forest. A thought in the back of her mind tells her she should feel guilty for leaving him there, bleeding out in the snow as the planet crumbles beneath them, and part of her does. As the adrenaline from their fight wears off and exhaustion kicks in, she is suddenly cognizant of the fact that she’s condemned him to certain death.

Rey doesn’t dwell on it, though. As the Falcon jolts into hyperdrive placing lightyears between her and Kylo, she can feel the bruise of him on her mind left over from the interrogation, still there, still hurting, spreading. She knows she will see him again.

 

*

 

Kylo’s car is shiny and entirely out of place on the deserted highway straddled by scrubland, but it’s growly and fast and _fun_ as he and Rey lose miles behind them.

She has her window rolled all the way down, savoring the nighttime-cool breeze as it whips through her hair. Kylo’s eyes look almost black in the non-light; she can feel him looking over at her every so often. They haven’t spoken a word since she hopped in his passenger seat and they peeled out of the gas station lot.

Sighing happily, Rey rolls up the window and ties her wild hair up in a bun. She glances over at the man, the stranger, in the driver’s seat.

“You know, I’m not really sure why I came with you,” she says, her voice light and contemplating. She knows why, because _I couldn’t stand to see one more person leave that awful place and leave me behind_ , because she likes the way he looks at her, because strangely, she feels like she could understand this man.

The corner of his mouth lifts at her admission. “To be honest,” his voice rumbles, “I’m not sure why I asked. You could be dangerous, for all I know.”

She gives a soft laugh. “Well, as long as we’re on the same page.” She crosses one leg under the other and leans her head back against the soft leather headrest. “So where are we headed?”

“Hmm,” he breathes, “I don’t know yet. I guess wherever we end up.”

Rey’s not sure when she decided to go on a road trip with a man she just met, _whatever happened to tall dark and dangerous,_ but something quells any misgivings and instead she thinks, _let’s see where this takes us_. She closes her eyes and exhales. “To wherever we end up, then.”

 

*

 

She can feel him before she sees him.

She feels the atmospheric disturbance as his _Upsilon_ -class shuttle makes entry, she feels the vibrations in her feet as it lands on the rocky earth, she feels the electric crackle as he ignites his blade, she feels the pull in her thoughts whispering, _I’m here, come to me._

Taking a deep breath, Rey spins her blue lightsaber and turns to face Kylo.

It’s the first time she’s seen him in person since Starkiller. He’s unmasked, unlike the group of knights behind him. The slash across his face has started to scar at the edges but still looks raw and painful. There’s determination burning in his eyes and Rey feels a perverse thrill of anticipation when he charges at her.

His blows are powerful and vicious and immediately put her on the defensive. It takes all her effort to block each slash and swing. It’s different than their duel in the snow, now that Kylo is at his considerable full strength, now that he has something to prove. Like on Starkiller, though, she can feel that he isn’t aiming to kill her, just subdue her, impress her, beat her.

The craggy cliffs of Ahch-To are inhospitable to most life forms except the hardiest few. Rey likes to think of herself as pretty hardy, but the landscape is working against her as she jabs and twists and runs to avoid the wide arc of Kylo’s lightsaber.

He’s driven her back up to the cliff’s edge and her ankle is aching from twisting on the uneven terrain and she’s trying not to look down at the churning sea.

Sparks shriek as the lightsabers try to repel each other. Kylo is focused on her completely, concentration and satisfaction at having her cornered playing on his face.

Growling, Rey reaches for the force to give her the strength to push him back but her foot slips and she feels the rock beneath her dislodge and then cool wind is whipping through her hair—

Rey doesn’t remember when she closed her eyes, but when she opens them Kylo is leaning over her and _what the kriff is he doing_ his mouth is on hers and she lurches up, throwing him off of her to retch up a lungful of salty water. Coughing, she wipes her mouth on her sleeve and realizes she’s soaking wet.

“What did you do?” she spits at Kylo, but it comes out weaker than she intended. Looking around, she can see they’re in a shallow cave; there’s only open ocean visible when she looks past him outside.

“I just saved your life,” he sneers, or tries to. He looks a little too guilty to pull it off convincingly.

Looking over him, she sees he’s drenched too. His black cape is still steadily dripping onto the stone floor and his hair is flat and exposing a pair of large ears. Putting two and two together, she realizes he must have jumped in after her and brought her to this cave.

“It’s your fault I needed saving,” she accuses. Still, he could have easily let the currents claim her and been done with it. Grudgingly, she bites out, “But thanks.”

“Any time,” he says facetiously but she catches him watching her as if to make sure she’s alright.

He divests himself of the sodden cape and takes a seat across from her, leaning back against the wall with his elbows resting on his knees.

“How long was I out for?” she asks. Their fight seems ages ago. She tries to stifle a yawn but her lungs are greedy for as much oxygen as they can get.

“Not long,” Kylo replies, “but the currents swept us pretty far out.”

Her wet clothes are holding the coldness in against her until it’s settled deep in her bones, and the stone surrounding them is quickly leeching what little body heat she has left. Rey shivers, teeth chattering with the force of her shaking. She hugs her arms around herself, missing the heat of Jakku for a split second.

Kylo frowns and his lips twitch as though he wants to say something. She brings her hands in front of her mouth in an attempt to warm them with her breath.

“You’re going to freeze. Come over here.” Kylo sounds mildly annoyed with her display of weakness as he pats the ground next to him. “We should try to share body heat.”

Of all the things Rey thought he might say, that was probably on the bottom of the list. She lets out a half-amused, half-outraged huff. “What, so you can impale me with your lightsaber? No way.” Kylo thins his lips at the low blow. “Can’t you just, you know,” she waves a hand, “make some fire?”

He gives her a dry, unimpressed look. “That’s not how the force works. Although I’m not surprised you’re still so uneducated. I would have taught you so much more by now.” He sounds almost hurt that she had spurned his proposal all those months ago. “Come here,” he commands again. “Unless you _want_ to freeze. Be my guest.”

Rey narrows her eyes. She doesn’t want to be any closer to him than she has to be, but she can’t feel her cheeks or fingers. She has to be pragmatic. It could be hours before anyone comes for them, be it Luke or Kylo’s knights.

Survival wins out, as always, so she scoots over until she’s next to him, her side just barely pressing against his. Kylo lifts his arm and brings it around her shoulders, pulling her in closer, all the while steadfastly looking anywhere but at her.

Rey tenses at first but though his clothes are as wet as hers, beneath them he burns like a furnace. The warmth where he’s touching her feels good. It feels dangerously similar to her dreams of him.

They sit in silence for a while, but the intimacy of hearing each of his breaths in her ear weighs on her uncomfortably. She breaks the quietude. “How did you find us?”

Kylo shifts slightly to look at her. His eyes seem to see right into her, and she knows then. She doesn’t want to hear him confirm her fear, that he followed whatever this taut pull is in their minds until it brought him to her.

When he opens his mouth to reply, she reroutes the conversation. “What are you doing here?” Rey already knows the answer, but she wants him to hear how it sounds out loud.

“I came for Luke Skywalker.” Kylo’s voice is detached as though repeating direct orders. “And you,” he says quieter, pointedly avoiding eye contact.

“He’s your uncle,” she frowns angrily. “And I would never go with you.”

She can feel his chest expand and contract as he sighs. “I know.” He sounds almost defeated.

“Well,” she replies tersely, “as long as we’re on the same page.” She sighs. Her chest is still tight and burning and speaking, even for a short time, has tired her out.

“You should rest,” Kylo rumbles in her ear. When she looks up at him with a distrustful glare, he adds, “I won’t call my knights over while you sleep. They can wait a little longer.”

All of her instincts are screaming at her not to close her eyes in front of the enemy, but he’s warm and solid and her chest feels heavy and her eyelids feel heavier. Just this once, she ignores them.

She’s halfway asleep by the time she closes her eyes, but she thinks she hears his deep voice murmur, “Sweet dreams.”

 

*

 

When Rey opens her eyes next, it’s still dark out and they’re still driving along an open stretch of highway.

She loves and hates the vastness of this place in equal measures as she looks at the empty blackness that surrounds them. Stretching a little, she asks Kylo, “How long was I out for?”

“Not long.” He’s staring at the road ahead of them, not looking any worse for wear. She tries to remember what time it was before she fell asleep but the numbers in her memory are all jumbled up. “Are you hungry? It looks like there’s a diner up ahead,” he gestures to the right, slowing down a bit. Sure enough, there is a little hole in the wall-looking establishment lit up with neon lights, _how did I miss that._

Her stomach clenches suddenly, making its hunger known. “I could always eat,” she smiles.

The car rolls to a stop in the dirt parking lot, kicking up a cloud of dust. There are no other cars but the _OPEN_ sign is flashing red and blue.

The pair enter the tiny diner, or more accurately, time capsule; it doesn’t look like anything has been changed since the fifties. The copious chrome is polished to a shine, the tables are complete with vinyl booths and checkered placemats, and the jukebox croons a half-remembered song.

The diner is empty except for Rey and Kylo. They seat themselves at a booth with a particularly nice view of the dark and dead highway. Rey bows her head to pore over the menu when a mug of steaming coffee is placed in front of her. She looks up to see a waitress with a kind but forgettable face and Kylo looking perturbed at the sudden intrusion.

Brandishing a notepad and pen, the waitress asks, “What can I get you two to eat?”

Rey’s stomach gives another almighty growl, so she orders the first thing she sees: “I’ll have a stack of pancakes, please.” The waitress turns to Kylo, who gives the menu a perfunctory glance before saying, “Hash browns.”

The waitress leaves with their orders and Rey takes advantage of the privacy and well-lit setting to consider the man sitting across from her. He’s got an interesting face; a bit narrow, almost sensitive, an arrogant mouth and full lips, pale skin dotted with dark moles like an inversion of the night sky, and those eyes, black one minute and almost yellow the next, and currently staring intently back at her.

She doesn’t start or break eye contact at being caught. Instead, she keeps looking into his eyes as if she’s trying to find some divine truth in them.

It’s him who breaks first, mouth twisting as he tries to fight a smile, and looks away. “See something you like?” His voice is low but there’s a fine blush gracing his cheeks.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she teases with a straight face. She doesn’t know where this boldness came from but she likes the feeling.

Before he can respond the waitress has reappeared with their food and Rey’s mouth is positively watering, _god when’s the last time I ate I’m starving._ Kylo watches her with a look of half-amusement half-horror as she drowns the pancakes in syrup and begins shoveling them into her mouth.

Swallowing the last of the stack in what must surely be record timing, she grabs a napkin and wipes her mouth clean of excess syrup. His eyes are golden as he stares at her mouth. He hasn’t touched his plate.

“So,” she says, trying to make conversation, “you said you were traveling with associates before.” At this he tears his eyes from her mouth. “Why’d you ditch them? Were they cramping your style?”

He leans back in the booth and produces a lighter and the pack of menthols from his coat pocket. He brings a cigarette to his mouth and it’s Rey’s turn to watch him as he takes a drag, the cigarette resting between his full lips, and exhales through his nose. _Didn’t they pass some kind of law about smoking inside,_ but the waitress doesn’t come over to chastise him.

“Something like that,” he finally replies. “We stopped seeing eye to eye on certain things. They… weren’t very good people.” He says the last part almost like an afterthought, like he’d been trying to forget that fact about them.

Leaning forward slightly, Kylo takes the cigarette from his mouth and proffers it to her. She takes it, fingers ever so slightly touching his.

“Does that mean you weren’t a very good person either?” She doesn’t watch his face as she asks, instead watching the red and blue neon of the _OPEN_ sign playing on the window.

It’s started to snow, gentle flurries melting into droplets on the hood of his shiny black car. The cigarette is slowly burning down.

“I’ve… done terrible things,” his voice is rough with self-loathing. “Things I wish I could undo, or at least forget. But I— I’m trying to do better.” He lets out a harsh breath. The snow starts to fall harder.

Rey nods slowly, trying to digest what little information he’s divulged. Perhaps in some other place and some other time, his words might have sent a stab of fear through her chest. But here and now, in this little diner out in the middle of nowhere with a belly full of pancakes, she feels safe. 

Making up her mind, she brings the cigarette to her mouth and breaths in, feeling a cool rush that sends shivers down her back.

“I suppose your past doesn’t matter, as long as you make the right choices now,” she says slowly _._ “I can move past it if you can.”

He’s looking at her like he’s never seen her before, like he’s never had someone accept him for him. 

She’s not sure who stands first, but Kylo holds out his hand and it’s warm and comforting as they leave. Rey feels vaguely bad about not paying, but the waitress is nowhere to be found and the way Kylo is gripping her hand in his makes her forget everything but where their skin is touching.

When they get in his car, the rest of the world falls away. He puts the key in the ignition but doesn’t turn it. Instead he shifts in his seat to face Rey.

For a moment they simply look at each other and then all of a sudden, _not soon enough_ , she’s leaning across the center console and their lips meet hungrily and they’re both thinking _god I’m starving for you_. The kiss is anything but gentle as they pour decades of loneliness and hurt into each other searching for _yes please touch me, love me, fix me, tell me it’s okay._

Her fingers thread tight in his dark hair and he _groans_ and it’s a sinful sound that floods her pulse with need. Kylo’s hands move to her waist and pull her into his lap and he looks at her with those intense eyes that flash black then gold in the twilight.

The front seat is surprisingly spacious as Rey reaches down between them and frees his cock from his pants, then she’s raising up her dress and sinking on to him, riding him, and his mouth is hot on her throat and his fingers trace down her side, up her thigh, teasing before _right there yes don’t stop—_

Rey is boneless as she rests her forehead against Kylo’s, their mouths parted and lips searching for each other as they share breaths in the afterglow. In the still darkness they sit tangled together until they no longer know where they end and begin.

 

*

 

“This doesn’t change anything.” Kylo’s voice is quiet and regretful as it breaks the stillness of the motel room. A moment passes where Rey’s breathing is still steady and even and she’s still draped over him in a picture of relaxation and he ~~_hopes_~~ wonders if she’s asleep.

The moment passes, as all moments do. He misses the heat of her against his chest immediately as she pulls away and sits up to fix him with look that both makes him regret speaking and goads him into self-defense.

“It’s my legacy. It’s what I’ve trained for, what I _want,_ ” he fervently tries to convince her _(or himself?)._ “The First Order is what the galaxy needs. We’re going to make things _better,_ you’ll see _._ ” He goes to take her hand but she jerks it away, getting out of the bed with an astonished expression. “It’s what I have to do, don’t you see, or — everything, _everything_ I’ve done has been for nothing.”

He’s frustrated now, desperate for her to understand, to tell him it’s okay. He gets up after her and grabs her wrist.

“You are unbelievable,” she says, low and dangerous, unable to listen to his twisted rationalizations any more. “Don’t pretend like you’re fine with being a slave to the dark side! Don’t you act like I haven’t seen inside your mind! I _know_ you. I know you know this isn’t right.” Her shoulders are tense with pent up anger as she struggles to maintain composure.

She’s wounded his delicate sense of self now. His pretty mouth pulls into a sneer.

“I could say the same to you, _Rey_ ,” he leans forward accusingly. “I’ve been in your thoughts, your dreams. I’ve been inside _you,_ ” his voice is cocky and smooth and she _hates it_ , especially hates the way his fingers are featherlight stroking down her waist, the way her skin jumps at his touch. “I know that you’re not as good as you pretend to be.”

She brings a hand up to slap that arrogant smirk off his face but he grabs it just before she makes contact. “Case in point,” he lifts an eyebrow. Then he takes her hand, caresses it over the scar that mars his pallid skin. “Exhibit A.”

She pulls her wrist out of his grasp. “Don’t you dare make this about me,” she grits out through clenched teeth.

Stony faced, she gathers her clothes and dresses herself with a bit more force than necessary. He’s watching her, face halfway between mesmerized and chastened. She grabs her pack and makes for the door.

“Rey, wait.” She knows he’s not using the force but his plaintive tone stops her all the same. Sighing, she turns around and he’s right in front of her, pulling her into his arms and as much as she hates it, it feels easy, it feels _right._ “I don’t want to be without you.” He mumbles the words into her hair like he doesn’t want her to hear them.

“Then you know what you need to do.” She steps away, ignoring how it pulls on her heart, and leaves without a backward glance.

 

*

 

Their clothes have been righted and reluctantly they separate, him in the driver’s seat, her riding shotgun.

Kylo fumbles in the dark for the keys; they chime against the steering column as he turns them and the engine roars to life. The headlights bathe the dark and empty road a soft yellow, the faint blue glow of the dashboard illuminates the curves and planes of his face.

“It feels like it’s been night for ages,” Rey remarks quietly, looking out the window up to the velvet midnight sky. “I’ve been wondering if it’ll ever end — if this will end.” Then quietly, meekly, she looks up at him from under her eyelashes and says, “I don’t know if I want it to.”

Kylo doesn’t — can’t — take his eyes off of her. “I know what you mean,” he murmurs.

 

*

 

It’s deadly silent.

In this cavernous stone crypt, the screeches of x-wings and thuds of blaster bolts hitting bodies are muffled, smothered into mere rattles and gasps. There is nothing in here but darkness.

This is where Snoke has retreated to as Resistance forces blow craters into the earth above. This is where he’s called his apprentice to heel, a dying man’s attempt at securing his legacy.

Rey barely dares to breathe; even here, the iron smell of blood permeates the air — or maybe its been there far longer than this battle. Her footsteps echo impossibly loud.

There’s a dark figure kneeling at the foot of an oversized obsidian throne like a hound guarding its master. It starts at the thrum of her lightsaber, tilting its head up with an almost lazy curiosity. Its own jagged red blade sparks at its side, illuminating the familiar curves and lines of its face.

She doesn’t recognize the emptiness in its yellow eyes.

The twisted grey being that sits so arrogantly on the throne is practically vibrating with thrilled energy.

“Do it now, Kylo Ren,” he commands with a strength that belies his appearance, “Slay your master and fulfill your legacy! Take your rightful place as emperor!”

Rey’s face twists in an ugly snarl as she whips her head to look at Snoke, a rage she’s never felt before igniting in her stomach. She lifts a hand and _squeezes_ , just enough for him to understand the message.

Snoke’s scarred rheumy eyes widen slightly, roving over her savage expression. He lets out a half-impressed breath. “You may have found your match, Kylo Ren. When you accept your full power, make her yours.” The dark figure stands.

“Do you remember,” she whispers above the racing of her heart, “when I told you your past doesn’t matter? That it’s what you choose now that counts?” It stares unblinking, and _God_ does she wish it wasn’t wearing his face. “This is one of those times where it _really_ counts, Kylo.”

Snoke pins her to the spot with a twitch of one long finger and stands. “Do it, my apprentice. Now!” His voice booms louder than an explosion, echoing off the craggy walls.

The figure jerks like a puppet, driven into action by it’s master’s command.

It wields the crackling red lightsaber; Rey sees it coming down at her and part of her is ready, always knew he’d be the death of her. But then it swings past, twirling around to cleave apart the terrible grey creature in one swift and savage motion. The stench of burnt blood and flesh is overwhelming.

Snoke falls, and Rey thinks it’s amazing that someone who caused so much destruction can look so small in death.

The figure in black has its back to her, shoulders heaving with each labored breath. The saber still thrums violent and at the ready. The ancient Sith ritual of apprentice slaying master is complete.

Rey doesn’t know what comes next.

“Kylo?” she whispers. She’s not afraid, she tells herself. _It’s him or me, it was always going to be this way._ Her grip on the blue lightsaber tightens. The world has narrowed down to the sight of him in front of her.

The figure turns around slowly, head down, dark hair falling over its face. When he looks up, his face is paler than she’s ever seen it but his eyes are brown again, intense and clear in a way she’s only seen before in dreams. One side of his mouth pulls up in an exhausted facsimile of a smile.

“You were right,” he breaths, “I did know what I had to do.”

When they emerge from the cold and empty crypt, him a heavy weight leaning on her shoulders, her steadfastly refusing to falter, the white sunshine has already begun to take over the sky. It reflects off the refuse of battle and nearly blinds her with its strength but Rey doesn’t think she’s ever seen a more beautiful sight.

**Author's Note:**

> So this turned out way different than I had planned and I can't quite figure out if I like it or not, but hopefully that's just because I've been staring at it for so long ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> I live for approval and validation so please let me know what you thought, good, bad, or ugly, and thanks for reading!


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